The Hunted
by Jack Nightingale
Summary: In the year 2014, Texas fell victim to a terrible plague. After the appearance of the horrifying 'Zed', the U.N opted to use nuclear weaponry on different sectors, the ones described as Hives. Now, the state has been converted into the most infamous prison known in all history... Area 13


**Area 13**

Criminals in 2017 were given two options.

Face the chair, or spend a prison sentence in Area 13.

In a survey performed in the previous year, 70% of inmates took option two: go to Area 13.

The other 30% were the lucky ones.

Colin Radley was one of the less fortunate ones.

The sky was ebony as the small convoy of trucks approached the monstrosity that dominated the skyline.

Thunder shook the earth beneath the trucks, throwing the Inmates around within their thin metal cabins.

Radley looked morosely at the Inmate on the other side of the cabin, absently causing quite a bit of distress for the young teenager.

Stubble shadowed his jaw line, Pearl eyes piercing the young mans soul. His hair stood on end, arcing forwards as the atmosphere became electric from the lighting above them. The truck shook again, knocking a large brute against Colin.

The blob was collared, like the rest of them.

They were equipped with a Deadlock Collar, an evil device conjured to keep criminals in track.

The theory was simple: Behave, or take 5000 volts to your spinal column.

The blob was slightly worrying though.

As well as other Cannibals in the truck, an iron muzzle covered the lower part of his face, minimizing movement of the jaw, and most importantly, keeping the teeth behind closed doors.

Colin went to scratch his face, but the bench beneath him shook as his handcuffs refused to remove themselves from the bindings keeping his hands from moving more than an inch.

He scowled. They were most likely going to die in that god-forsaken prison… yet the Law continued to restrict their freedom.

He returned his gaze to the far side of the truck, realizing the teenager was staring at him.

"What's yaw problem?" He drawled, slightly squinting one eye as a bright light shone upon the truck.

The teenager started stuttering,

"Uh, nothin' s-s-sir."

Radley cocked his head.

"Yaw not meant ta be 'ere, are ya?"

The teen didn't really know how to respond, struggling to find his words.

"What did ya do boy?"

The teen shrugged, leaning forwards to scratch his head.

Inside, Radley was fuming after being unable to figure out how to do that a few moments ago.

"Ah uh… ah broke into a bank with this gang… the bastards left me behind."

Colin smirked.

"Ah know what ya mean boy."

He smiled slightly, more relieved that he was understood.

Colin turned when the boy started to look nervously to Radley's right, finding the blob staring at the young boy.

"What's yaw problem fatso? Keep yaw eyes, and yaw mouth away from that bastard, otherwise yaw'll have that gob o' yaws on the other side of yaw head."

The blob seemed to understand, instantly shifting his gaze to another unsuspecting soul.

The boy looked at Colin.

"Thanks…"

Colin nodded dismissively, "Don't mention it bub."

Another light blinded Radley, declaring the arrival of the Inmates at their final location.

The truck stopped abruptly, heaving all the Inmates to Colin's left, before returning them all to their upright positions. After but three seconds later, the back of the truck crashed open, dozens of armed soldiers yelling at the top of their voices.

One of them, probably the Captain, plugged some sort of rod into the side of the truck, releasing the locks keeping the prisoners in place.

"Come on! Get yaw sorry asses outta there."

Slowly and clumsily, the Inmates began their way out of the truck.

Colin glanced quickly at the boy, "Stick with me bub… yaw might just live a few months."

The boy nodded, gulping.

Radley was whacked with a club, winding him.

It was true… the tales about Area 13.

It's just a chance for the Law to get away with anything.

He staggered off to one side, gesturing with his head for the boy to follow him.

Somewhere behind him, a gunshot erupted.

The boy turned nervously, taking in the corpse behind him. Already, the Inmates population had dropped by one idiot.

One less to worry about in confinement.

Colin tugged at the boys' shirt, tattered and dirt ridden, to get him to follow.

Unlike other prisons, Inmates here weren't required to wear any sort of uniform, although a few were wearing the gear they had been given at previous prisons.

The air seemed thick with ash, the whole atmosphere solemn and deadly.

The Inmates were split into four different groups.

The Murderers, the Cannibals, the Thieves and the Smugglers.

Colin stuck with the kid, trying to get the guards to put them in the same category.

But he probably wouldn't be anyway.

Colin was here for a rather different crime to that of the boy. A much more sinister one.

"Alright boy… what's yaw name?"

The teen looked up in all the confusion, being dragged along by Colin.

"Uh… Josh Simmons sir."

Radley groaned.

"Please, for the love of gawd, just call me Radley."

Josh nodded frantically, the two moving up a huge line that had formed.

"Alright, here's what ah want ya to do." Radley shook the boy by the arm.

"When ya get through the processing, you're gonna find yourself in some kinda wasteland I'd presume. I want ya to wait. You got that? Wait for me to arrive."

Josh nodded again. "Wait for ya to arrive…"

"Do _not_ leave that area alright? If ah ain't there in an hour or so, then run. Just run and find somewhere safe."

Josh was about to speak again, but a guard pulled him away, taking him to another line. Radley struggled against another guard, which managed to wrestle him into a different line. He looked up, taking in a vivid yellow print above him, plastered onto the monstrous concrete fortress.

"Keep movin' you, we're not taking in any lazy gits today."

Colin took another rifle to the side, winding him again.

All Radley could do was scowl at the guard as he followed the line into the behemoth before him.

What little light there was outside was quickly blocked out, replaced by a shallow orange light from within.

The building was hot and clammy, hundreds of Inmates entering every week.

Up ahead, Colin could hear screaming and moaning, a few men sprawled out across the cold stone floor.

The sight of one corpse even managed to turn Colin's stomach slightly. If this was how bad it was here, he could only imagine how bad it would be inside Area 13…

And how bad it would be to poor old Simmons.

The line slowed ever so slightly.

Radley leaned to one side, peering into the eerie light.

Up ahead, white light pierced the gloom from the right.

Colin took everything in, until he managed to get a hold on what the guards were doing with the other prisoners.

When they reached a certain point, they were corralled into one of three booths.

Once there, the Inmate is made to put his or her arm through a small opening in a glass panel.

After they did so, a UN worker fired what could only be described as a nail gun into the Inmates arm.

Radley had a good idea what it was.

Tracker chips.

Despite the fact most sentences in the Area were likely to kill the Inmates, the UN liked to keep track of where about the prisoners were.

Some say it was so they knew where they were if their sentence ended… others believed it was so they knew where most of the Zed were.

It told them which sectors they needed to nuke.

Most of Texas was a wasteland, fairly different to how it was six years earlier.

During 2015, the eggheads at the UN decided that, instead of trying to cure the plague, or contain it, it would be a much better idea to nuke certain parts of the county, sectors considered as Hives.

So, they could now locate whereabouts the Hives were.

Another three men had moved on, clutching their arms.

Colin counted the men before him…

_One… Two…_

He scowled.

He was next.

Again, a guard slammed the stock of his gun against Colin's side, getting a curse in return.

He was forced into booth three.

He showed his right hand to a African behind the glass, who looked miserable as sin.

"Name?"

"Colin Radley."

The African typed into a keyboard, before reaching under his desk and producing the injector.

Radley tensed, but still couldn't help but grimace as the white hot tracker was bored deep into his forearm.

"Ah… shit." Radley snapped his arm back, massaging his forearm gently.

"Sorry…" For once, the worker actually sounded sorry.

"It's alright…" Then it clicked.

His shackles were gone. They must have been unclipped when he was being injected. The guards tensed as he stepped away from the booth, a thin sliver of scarlet arcing down his arm.

"Move on down there. Don't try anything funny."

Radley nodded, smirking.

He wasn't that thick.

The concrete walls made their way to one side, carving a tunnel into the concrete fort.

One of the other Inmates slowed to talk to him.

"Well, that woke me up." He was Jamaican.

Radley smirked again, happy now he was free.

"Yeh, Ah been through worse though."

The Jamaican was massaging his own wrists, probably glad about removing his own shackles.

Up ahead, another group was forming.

Radley and the Jamaican joined them, but soon found they weren't going anywhere.

They were all waiting near an iron wall, all restless.

"What the hells goin' on here?" Cried one of them.

Other cries were becoming audible, but they were soon over powered.

"Welcome Inmates, welcome to Area 13."

Radley frowned.

It was Frost.

Johan Frost was in charge of the project, and was currently in command of the centre.

"Soon, you shall all be released into the Area. This first sector is guarded heavily by Raven Operatives, so I advise… _caution_ when lurking here."

Raven Contractors were probably the biggest PMC on the planet. And they were currently sold out to Frost.

The German continued.

"Beyond there, the sectors are pretty much yours to roam. However, I strongly advise you stay clear of Sector 'Z'. This is the main Hive in Area 13, so I wish anyone incompetent to enter a quick and painless death."

Radley leaned slightly, "Cheerful bloke."

"Enough from me, I suppose. Just two rules. Refrain from killing one another when in the eyes of guards, and do not, under any circumstances, approach the outer walls. Lethal force may be used. Welcome to Area 13."


End file.
